Quit
by AnotherGenericNerd
Summary: They can't beat Sans. They can't even touch him. Not even determination can last forever. (T for gore)
If you haven't notice by now, All I write is angst.

* * *

You're welcome.

You killed everyone.

 _Almost everyone._

Two _(Three)_ left.

 **Stay determined.**

 _…_

You weren't doing very well on that last one.

How many time had he killed you? What even was his name? So many resets ago, you supposed you heard it.

So many deaths ago. Fonts, it was a font- Sans.

You supposed remembering his name could work like some sort of twisted respect.

 _Bones twisted through your stomach with a horrible squelching noise. Your guts looked almost more blurry than normal._

Respect for holding you off so long. Respect for trying.

 _Each rib shattered at once, sharding deep into muscles inside you._

Your body flopped uselessly on the floor, breath stuttered and ragged.

Which number was this?

Chara was quiet. You wanted to laugh, if you could. Your lungs whistled like a bag full of holes. It probably was.

' _Where's my death count?'_

Sans kept it, in the beginning, but stopped after maybe a hundred. You don't know, it all kind of blurred into a mush of timelines after the 40th.

Your knife scraped across the tiles.

When had you dropped it? When had you even picked it up in the first place?

You never even felt the weight in your hand anymore.

You weren't sure you felt anything anymore.

Black and gold and a flicker of a red heart.

 **Stay determined.**

 _Gold,_ brighter than any of the flowers. Pillars stretched down the hall. Sans stood out against the gold, eye already glowing blue.

He said nothing.

Your knees wobbled.

Determination was so _heavy_.

You couldn't take a step.

Sans watched you silently. Neither of you moved.

 **Stay determined.**

You lifted your foot. It slapped weakly against the tiles and slid under your weight. You smacked against the floor.

Which was it this time? Impaled? Disemboweled? Choked? Burned to nothing?

But there were no blurry shades of pink or red. Just fuzzy gold and _gold_ , as far as your eyes could handle anymore. You remembered gold well. You once shoved it down your throat with the help of a friend who now bore the same colors as their own.

You _hated_ it.

Your legs twitched insistently, the controls dragging in you mind by someone else's hand.

 _Red eyes and a smile._ _They had a name, had a title. Did you still want to remember it?_

You couldn't move. They couldn't make you. You couldn't make yourself.

 _Lead laced along bones rotting inside you._

What happened?

 **Stay determined.**

The red luster of your soul was tainted black and grey.

You bled determination until your body had none to use.

Barely breathing, you laid there.

The hall was silent.

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend you were dead. Pretend Chara wasn't there to shove you back into a body and throw you to the wolves. Or make you into the wolf.

 _There was too much gold._

A chuckle bounced off the pillars. You didn't have the strength to lift your head.

"What is this, kid? Think I'm gonna let you fool me?"

What is he talking about? Why can't he be quiet?

The relative peace you might have had felt like it wrenched sideways inside you, deeper than any femur could've stabbed.

"You'll never give up."

You tried.

"You'll never be happy."

 _You tried._

The force of the bones lifted you off the ground. You didn't even look at the one hollowing out your stomach.

Your breath was quiet as the darkness that welcomed you back.

 **Stay determined.**

 _Shut up._

You were awake again.

Golden hallways.

You were so _sick_ of gold.

Maybe if you shoved it far enough down your throat it'd go away.

"...What are you doing?"

You closed your eyes. As if that'd work- look what happened to Chara.

Fingers scrabbled at the controls and you let them.

But nobody came.

"What are you trying to prove?"

Having something to prove would be a nice purpose. One better than murdering all your friends, even.

"What do you think you'll accomplish this way?"

Awfully wordy, the skeleton was. You didn't understand. You couldn't understand.

 _"_ _I just can't understand."_

Something exploded through your head, like a ripping headache that fizzled out like a dead tv with your vision.

Stay determined.

You were on the floor. Gold was everywhere.

Phalanges bit into your skin.

Sans propped you against the wall. You hadn't opened your eyes. You didn't want to see gold again. You knew it was there, wasn't that enough?

Maybe you could fall asleep, like this.

Maybe you could never wake up, like this.

Chara tugged at strings that had been snapped long ago.

"...Kid."

No. Please, _please,_ go away.

 _"_ _Frisk."_

You weren't Frisk anymore. You weren't frisk, or chara, or anyone, or anything.

"..."

Shuffling and scraping. bone rubbed against the dry, scabbed skin of your knuckles. Your fingers were stiff, and empty. The knife was on the floor, where you had woken.

"...Frisk…"

You took a breath. and another. and another and another and another until you felt like you were breathing again. A glimmer of orange shimmered. A word you couldn't remember, scratched into static by Chara's nails.

Your eyes opened, brown and empty.

Sans' barely got out your name before the world shut down around you.

The quit option looked glazed in gold.


End file.
